


Happy Hour

by LittleMissCosmic



Series: We're Not Normal People [5]
Category: Constantine (TV), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bisexual John Constantine, Bisexual Stephen Strange, Drug Use, Dumb Conversations, Fluff and Humor, Idiots hanging out, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Past Relationship(s), Stephen Strange Has Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:16:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29774673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissCosmic/pseuds/LittleMissCosmic
Summary: Stephen wasn't used to the Avengers' company just yet. The Compound did nothing more than make him feel like a stranger to his own team. After months of asserting to himself that he'd rather spend his free time alone, when he finds himself drowning his sorrows for the first time in years, he decides to have a happy hour with a so-called "friend".
Relationships: John Constantine & Stephen Strange, John Constantine/Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) (Mentioned), Stephen Strange/Original Male Character(s), Tony Stark/Stephen Strange (onesided)
Series: We're Not Normal People [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2135205
Comments: 7
Kudos: 20





	Happy Hour

**Author's Note:**

> wow, i honestly wasn't expecting to get this one done this month either! this one is more stephen-centric (or at least, i feel like it is) and there's less action-y and magic-y stuff and more fluffy cause i wanted to give both of them a break :D there will probably be a lot of these cute slice-of-life chapters in this series as we go along, so i hope you like this one guys!!

Despite his status as a not-clearly-stated-but-pretty-much-official Avenger, Stephen didn't spend a lot of his time at the Compound. Sure, he attended the obligatory meetings and mission debriefings, but he didn't make a lot of office small talk with his...co-workers. When he was a doctor, it was different. Everyone was on the same level as him (or, as his previous self would've said, below him), but here? Here, he's outclassed by at least half his team. 

It wasn't like he had a fragile ego (anymore), no, it was just...intimidating. He was surrounded by heroes who already proved their worth-- what made him think he was on any of their levels? 

Today he had just stepped in for the typical debriefing, but on his way out he managed to catch the eye of the one and only Steve Rogers. And after a few encounters with him, Stephen had learned that he was definitely a master of small talk. 

"Doctor Strange, always good to see you," Steve complimented. "Heard you've been doing some good work around town by yourself."

Stephen nodded, trying his best not to eye the door he desperately wanted to step through right now. "I would say so as well."

"You know you can always call us in if you need any backup, right? We gave you that pager for a reason."

"I know that," he stated bluntly. Of course, that pager had been sitting snug in his bedroom drawer for the past 4 months or so, but it wasn't like he's had to use it recently, so he saw no use in carrying it around. 

Steve opened his mouth to continue their (somewhat one-sided) conversation, until Natasha entered from the other room. 

"Steve, you got your shield ready?" she asked, pointing at him. "Sam said he'd meet us at the park."

"Of course, Nat."

She smirked. "Don't forget the Gatorade this time!"

"It was one time!" 

Natasha exited just as quickly as she arrived, yet Stephen had forgotten he was even in the room. 

Steve turned back to Stephen, almost as surprised as he was that he was still there, and immediately explained, "Oh, it's just a little thing we do, sparring and all that."

Well, he understood that. "And the gatorade?"

"Inside joke. One time, I promised to bring the gatorade, and then--"

"You forgot?"

There was an awkward pause between them as the punchline, essentially, was just that. He forgot the gatorade. 

"...It was funnier in the moment," Steve remarked, not dropping his chipper attitude. "Anyways, are you coming to our game night? You haven't been coming to most of them--"

"Yeah, yeah, I might-- might drop by," Stephen tensed at the sheer mention of game night. "If I'm not busy, you know, in another dimension and all."

That was a lie. Just like every week before he'd most likely be curled up in some uncomfortable position in his study with a book he's read hundreds of times already.

"Alright, then," Steve shot a finger gun at him and maneuvered around him to continue his path. "I'll be off. See you later."

Stephen, though still feeling insecure about the conversation, offered him a bright grin as he continued past him. "Have a nice day."

Good, he got through the small talk at least. Guilt raged on within him with the Game Night thing, but the few times he went he was just...out of place. Just like in the Compound, he was surrounded by anecdotes and reminiscences of previous missions he had no part in completing. Every grin he plastered on his face felt soulless, like he was needlessly overcompensating for his outsider status. 

Not to mention how awkward it would be if he was in the same room as-- 

"Doctor Strange." 

Stephen hadn't noticed that he nearly managed to bump into Tony Stark, much to both of their dismays. When he looked up, he was relieved that Tony didn't seem irritated. In fact, he looked like he couldn't care less about this encounter. 

He didn't know what Tony thought about him at this point, and this wasn't making anything better. 

"...Stark."

With nothing more than a tip of the head, as if to say "I see you but I won't say that out loud," Tony walked down the hall with his blank expression intact. It took everything in Stephen to not turn around and ask him what was up with him. 

Yeah, he probably wasn't gonna make it to game night. 

* * *

Stephen didn't even try going back to the Compound that night. By the time the clock struck 10 PM, while his teammates were off playing Monopoly or whatnot, he was already half-drunk at the local bar. Getting wasted had been a far away memory from his college days-- he promised sobriety during his time with Christine. Normally, he'd coop himself in his library and take this time to research whatever he found during his last interdimensional mission. But for some reason, he chose to drink. 

It was hard to be sure, but it might've had something to do with the fact he saw a certain somebody enter the bar just an hour ago. 

"You keep coming back to this city," he told John, who was surprisingly not drinking at all. "Why?"

John turned his head, leaving a smoky trail in the air, and gave him a signature smirk. "Well, it may be the armpit of the state, but I'd be lying if I said it at least didn't have some damn fine whiskey." 

"What've you done since I last saw you?" 

"Oh, you know, just went back to the cretaceous period and stopped a rogue cowboy from riding a T-rex into the sunset," he gave an empty laugh. "And you?"

Staring mindlessly into his 3rd glass of whiskey that night, he couldn't do anything but shrug. "Went down to the office. Checked in with a few friends."

"Is that why you're drowning your sorrows tonight?"

He didn't answer that.

"I never got the whole deal about the Avengers anyway," John leaned back, bringing his elbows to the bar table. "So what, you stop a few alien invasions once in a while and keep some wackjobs in spandex from blowing up New York."

"It's not like your line of profession is that impressive either."

"Well, you'd be just about right about that. Time travelling's just a part-time gig. But for the most part, I'm just a petty dabbler in the dark arts," he flicked his hand. "Guess you got me there."

Stephen nodded, still staring into his alcohol before bringing it to his lips. "Guess so."

Once he pulled the glass away, he felt a firm hand take it out of his grip. He groaned as John placed the other hand on his shoulder and shook it softly. 

"The alcohol's obviously not doing you any favors," he said. "Why don't you say we get out of here? Go back to your place?"

"Now, if you're going to say you _finally_ want to bang me--" 

"Relax, Strange," John stepped back, raising his hands in a way that said _'I'm serious.'_ "I'm more interested in a night in the Sanctimonious-Whats-It-Called."

Right before he could turn him down, Stephen took a moment to mull over his night so far. Weighing the options, it was either lock himself in his study alone, or hang out with Constantine for a few hours and _then_ lock himself up for the night. 

And as much as he'd like to tell himself he didn't invite company, he'd rather spend some time with someone he nearly considered a "friend" than waste his time wallowing in his own self-pity. 

"Fine," he scoffed, stumbling out of his chair. He pushed the glass back and slapped a $20 bill on the counter. "Let's get out of here."

With a smugly amused expression that Stephen refused to acknowledge, John took out a cigarette and led him out the bar. 

* * *

In 15 minutes, John was getting a full on tour of the Sanctum Sanctorum, from the guest bedrooms to the deepest chambers (aside from one, he noted). Their final stop was the miniature library just next to the entrance, which-- shockingly --was cluttered with scattered research and empty plates. 

"I've got books, tea, some more books," Stephen muttered as he half-drunkedly sifted through the mess. He made a personal note to clean up at some point. "Dangerous relics, a snack..."

His eyes landed on a plate of some gelatin looking blocks on a plate next to his desk. He remembered making a brief run to the supermarket one day and grabbing some snacks so everyone would stop worrying that he wasn't eating (which was true, though he didn't want to say that). Without taking a moment to think in his state, he offered it to John, who took one and popped it into his mouth. 

"That's pretty good," he remarked. 

"Yeah, turkish delight or something," Stephen took one and bit into it. Sweet, with just a hint of citrus. "Must've misplaced it for some reason." He placed the plate back, turning to gather a few papers to somewhat tidy up the place. 

"So tell me," John fell into one of the chairs, not even bothering to ask. "How irritating is your lot that you'd rather be cooped up with me than hang out with them?"

Stephen paused, turning back to gawk at him. "Did you- Did you seriously drag me to my own house to coerce me into some weird therapy session?"

He smirked, as always. "I'm just asking a question, love."

Raising a finger, Stephen expected himself to be angrier than he actually was. Maybe the alcohol numbed him already, but he wasn't exactly in the mood to argue with John Constantine right now. 

"Fine," he surrendered. "It's just-- they've spent so much time together, and I feel out of place with them. None of them understand, or try to understand, what magic is. Whenever I'm at one of their 'game nights', they're cracking jokes with each other about past missions, or yelling with such lively energy that I can't match. I get tired easily, recently."

For what it was worth, John was a pretty good listener. Even though he had his flask out and his legs across the armrest of his chair, he had heard him intently. 

"I'm no stranger to that," he admitted. 

Stephen shook his head with a weary laugh. "I used to be a socialite. Used to love being the center of attention. But that's faded overtime, I suppose."

He took a moment to reflect back when he was a doctor. The seminars, the ceremonies, the happy hours...all replaced with worthless nights and endless arrays of books. He walked over to grab another one of those snacks, but stopped in his step as he got an eyeful of the paper disregarded on his desk. After skimming over it, he screwed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

"...Shit."

John's lips broke away from his flask as he wondered what he was on about. "Strange, if you're about to cry, do it somewhere else. I'm having a drink here."

"No, Constantine," he said sharply. "That snack I gave you, I was doing research on it a few days ago," shoving the paper into John's face, he began to pace the room in a frantic worry. "It's some otherworldly delicacy that induces hallucinogenic effects. I think I just gave you drugs."

"This isn't my first rodeo with drugs, mate," John assured. Then he came to a realization and tipped his head at him. "Is it yours?"

" _N-No!_ " Stephen sputtered, as if offended. He tried to regain his composure, but his anxiety was getting the better of him. "No-- it's just, I haven't done it in so long, and I don't remember what it's like, and--"

He stopped himself in the middle of the study as John, upon noticing how stressed he was getting, placed his hands on his shoulders. Stephen looked into his eyes, anchoring himself in them. Of course, he would've probably chosen something else to focus on, but he wasn't thinking straight, and that was the first thing he saw. 

"Hey," John whispered with genuine worry. "You deserve a night off, I think. I'll stay here and we can go on a little trip together," he shook his shoulders encouragingly with a comforting grin. "Who knows, it might be interesting."

Stephen, again, tried to argue, but couldn't find the proper words. Because perhaps-- and this was a heavy _perhaps_ \--John was right. Just for this night. Judging by his research, the effects shouldn't last for more than a few hours, so he could ride it out and be done by the morning. And at least with someone beside him, he could keep him occupied so he wouldn't do something stupid. Or rather, he could keep John from doing something stupid. 

"Fine," he said, feeling his breaths decrease. "Thank you."

John stepped away and shoved his hands in his pocket. "...So you got any alcohol here?" 

Stephen rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face suggested he wasn't too adverse to the idea. It was his night off, and he had a guest to entertain. 

A little wine wouldn't be so bad, right? 

* * *

It was about 2 hours later now, sometime after midnight (neither of them could read any of the clocks) and a shared wine bottle between the two of them. Okay, maybe a _few_ shared wine bottles between the two of them. Neither of their heads were on straight, and their state of minds had dissolved so far they had pretty much been reduced to giggling schoolchildren. 

"Okay, okay, okay. _Okay_ ," Stephen stammered in his drunken stupor, raising the wine bottle to his lips. He was halfway on the ground, his body slumped so far he was barely on his chair anymore. "How would you rank your teammates?"

John raised his head from the ground, and he wallowed dizzily before falling back again. He was spread out on the floor, signature trenchcoat half disregarded, and though Stephen would usually be concerned with him ruining his carpet, he let it slide for now. 

"Alright, uhm, wow...this is actually kind of hard," he laughed aloud. "Well, I've snogged Gary more than once, and he wasn't a bad kisser. I'd do it again. I guess Mick--"

"Isn't that the one who hates you?"

"That's how I like them," John grinned at him. "Rough and mean. Ray, ahh-- he's pretty 'andsome. Face of an angel. Heart of a puppy. If Nora didn't snag him maybe I'd try--" he cut himself off, shaking his head to dismantle the thought. "Who'm I kidding, he probably doesn't even like guys."

Stephen swatted a hand at him. "Never say never. People can surprise you."

He lifted his head, narrowing his eyes at Stephen. "How many Avengers have you wanted to snog? Be honest."

"Finish your list first," Stephen replied, pointing at him (though not directly at him, more like the lamp right next to him). "Then I'll tell you."

With a cheeky smile and another swig of wine, John tipped his head back and continued his list. "There's Behrad and Nate-- pretty interchangeable. They kinda have a thing goin' on, don't know what that's about. But both of them are pretty, and I wouldn't mind smoking a joint or two with them. And then there was Snart..." 

" _Snart?_ " 

Sitting up, he nodded with a half-drunk, half-infatuated smile. "Leo was his name," he said, almost sighing. "Sweet, sweet voice...taken, sadly. But y'know, good for him. Now Sara-- I've made out with her before. Zari and Charlie..." 

He paused, his smile faltering just a bit. Stephen looked up at him, noticing that he, for once, was actually thinking before he spoke. Guess there was a first time for everything. 

"I don't know..." he answered at last, shaking his head. "They've helped me through... I don't know, I guess it's weird imagining being with them," he spat out a chuckle, but no humor could be found. "I wouldn't _mind_ it-- I wouldn't mind being with any of them. But I'm not interested in swapping spit with any wankers at the moment. And if I were, I'd wanna start new."

The moment became coated with silence as John breathed deep, as if reminiscing about something. Stephen studied him for a while, wondering what he could be thinking about, but also knowing that he most likely wouldn't tell him. Anyway, the silence bored him, and he cut through it with a tight scoff. 

  
"Alright, that was your one therapy session pass," he drawled, pretending not to care about what he was thinking. "Now, what about the one-night stands?"

Only momentarily annoyed by being cut off, John narrowed his eyes at him as he took a moment to think, then proceeded to give him an enchanted smirk with a besotted giggle.

"The Devil," his name rang from his tongue, sweet as honey. 

Stephen tilted his head, raising an eyebrow as he tipped the bottle into his mouth again. "They were _that_ bad, huh?"

"No, _Lucifer_ ," John reiterated, resting a hand on his chest. "Morningstar." 

Eyes widening, the wine in Stephen's mouth almost spilling onto his chair as he held back a cough. John snickered at his flustered reaction. 

"I'm not kidding. And damn..." Sighing with contentment, John's eyes closed and he sunk further to the ground with slight arousement. " _Fuck_ , I couldn't even move in the morning!"

Stephen rolled his eyes, not out of jealousy (he insisted) but out of annoyance. 

"I don't need you getting drool on my carpet," he said, lightly kicking John. Snapping out of his smitten memories, he groaned at him and tried to kick back, only to realize he was just kicking the legs of his chair. He sat up, leaning himself against a lamp, and brought a knee to his chest so he could rest his arm. 

"There's also this one tall bloke from Blue Valley or whatever," he had distinct recollections of a tall, bearded man in a star-spangled outfit, though he never caught his name. "Kinda handsome. I've seen pictures."

"So," Stephen leaned forward to look at John eye-to-eye, "You like them tall, dark, and handsome?"

He gave him an amused shrug. "Guess you can say I've got a type. Now how 'bout you?" he leaned right back into Stephen, so close that the tips of their noses were nearly touching. "I finished my row, now it's your turn."

"Ah," Stephen opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Not a single word. He fell back into his chair, confused at his lack of what to say. "Uhm, well..." 

"Oh, please," John rolled his eyes, lifting himself to take a staggered walk to the next wine bottle. Once he got what he wanted, when Stephen still had no idea what to say, he leaned a hand on the edge of his chair and stood behind him. "Don't tell me you've never had a brief shag before." 

And at that moment, Stephen finally found something to say, prompting himself with a raised finger. "Believe it or not, I actually had a one night stand once. Back when I was a doctor." 

"Oh _really?_ " John asked, more interested than ever. Stephen nodded, though he didn't seem as excited as John was. 

"Out in Colorado one week for a seminar," he began, pressing his lips into a line. "Met this...this phony lawyer. Worked at a community college, he told me. Liked paintball." 

"Was he good?" 

"Preoccupied with himself, mainly. Emotionally closed off." He sat back and tried to remember the details. His days as a doctor had been long past him, but every now and then he thought about that one specific night. It was his first, last, and _only_ one-night stand in his life. "By the morning, I was gone." 

Stephen turned his head to face John, who was currently gulping down half of the bottle in his hand. This was gonna be one hell of a mess to clean up in the morning...but honestly, right now? He didn't mind it. It was actually kind of refreshing to just relax for one night with (someone he considered as) a friend. 

"Rank the Avengers," John asked-- no, _demanded_. "I wanna hear your opinions. I fancy the green one myself, but everyone goes on and on about that god of hammers or whatever--" 

"Thor," Stephen kicked his legs to the side and swiveled on his seat to face John. "And can you blame them? Have you SEEN him?" 

John smiled in mild agreement. "So that's your number one, huh?" 

"I'd say so," Stephen nodded. Of course, he'd never tell any of them, but he'd actually been ranking them for weeks now. "I'd rank Steve just below him, for all the same reasons. The green one you're referring to is Bruce, and believe me, he's actually somewhat charming even out of Hulk mode. He's a doctor, we get along. Then I'd place Natasha basically on the same level as him, she knows how to lead a team and she's powerful on the battlefield. That's always attractive." 

"What about the one that's just a shorter version of my Ray?" 

"Oh, Scott? Yeah, he's a good dad and a nice guy. He's taken, but I could see us together. I could see us happy." 

"So," John rested his forearm on the edge and leaned his head towards him. "It's happiness you're looking for?" 

He paused. He...He'd never actually considered that before. Days and days had gone by, but was he ever truly happy? He couldn't remember the first time he didn't feel like there was a weight in his stomach. 

"Compassion," he confessed out loud. "Care. Some sort of connection, I guess? It's kinda hard to decide. It's been...so long since I've actually dated anyone." 

"I find that hard to believe."

Stephen's eyes widened, and he refused to recognize the way his cheeks began to flush. 

"The night we met, I distinctly remember you were stood up." 

Ah. Of course. He had almost forgotten. 

"Yeah, uhm..." he lowered his head, "Left Tony out for a reason." 

"Oh..." Like the last time this was brought up, John stopped with an awkward pause. But he resumed himself with a chuckle to lighten the mood before it got too heavy. "Bet he's just some small guy out of that suit." 

"Genius, billionaire, philanthropist," he corrected. "And he's flirted with nearly every Avenger at this point. With me, though, he didn't beat around the bush. He walked up to me and just said "you, me, date." And I said yes. Like an idiot." 

John, without any hesitation, placed a hand on his shoulder. "You're not an idiot." 

Stephen gazed at his hand, then at John, who had an intoxicated blush surrounding his face. "Yes I am. If I said no I wouldn't have met _you_." 

"Well, we can't all be winners," John shook his head, crossing from behind the chair to the couch right next to it, throwing his body across. "C'mon, there must be more where that came from. Any one-sided crushes?" 

"Oh," That was easy, he had a lot of those. They were just brief thoughts, nothing too serious. "Oh, well, there's this hot guy-- I think his name was Jimmy --works in the FBI." 

"FBI," he threw his head back onto the armrest. "Lots of kinky wankers in that department." 

"And then there was Christine, I told you about her already. Deserved better than past me, honestly. But there was this time where we were out at a ceremony, and our friend Nicodemus had one too many drinks. And I saw him on the dance floor, shirt unbuttoned, tie undone, just looking like he didn't have a care in the world..." He segued into a sigh, thinking back to those days. He never did tell Nic that he liked him that way, only admiring him from afar. Who knows, maybe Nic liked him back. But now, he'd never find out. 

"Sounds dreamy," John muttered, maneuvering himself around so his head was resting on the _other_ armrest, right next to him. "Ni-co-de-mus." 

The way John sang his name was cute. And yes, he told himself, he just thought that John Constantine was cute. Maybe just for tonight, or just for this moment, he was willing to say he genuinely liked his presence. Braving a hand to his head, he brushed through John's hair, and when John said nothing, he continued. 

"Yeah," he said. "He was." 

* * *

"Harrison Ford!" 

"Robert Plant!" 

"Marlon Brando!" 

"Debbie Harry!" 

"Lucy Liu?" 

"Elton John!" 

_"Angelina Jolie!"_

_"JAMES DEAN!"_

Stephen slammed his bottle down, shaking his head while John was reduced to a giggling fit. The two were on the ground now, knees to their chests, piles of wine at their feet. The game was originally just "Guess My Celebrity Crushes", but it had quickly escalated into them naming any random attractive celebrity off the top of their heads. Which for them, was a lot. 

"Oh pleeease, that's 'bvious,'' Stephen rolled his eyes, unwilling to admit defeat. "EVERYONE ha-has had a crush on James Dean." 

"S'if _Harrison Ford'sn't_ as obvious!" John slurred, nearly falling to the ground in his drunken stupor. "Maybe try listening to some good bands once in a while." 

He reached for another bottle, but he overcompensated his shot and ended up just throwing himself back onto the ground. Stephen crawled over to him and leaned over his face with a dastardly smirk. 

"You're telling this to a guy who collected Black Sabbath cassettes during senior year," he bragged, letting his hair fall over his face. It had grown unkempt as the night raged on, but John seemed to like it, judging from his smile. 

"Huh, I didn't know you actually had fun in school," he teased. "I would've suspected you to be one of the cunts more concerned with homework or university applications and all that rubbish." 

"Haha," Stephen chortled, rolling over to lie down on the ground next to him. " _Rub-bish_." 

"Oh sorry, I meant _gar-bage._ " 

The room filled with their shared laughter, and the library felt like some sort of pocket dimension to Stephen. One where all his troubles faded away and he could finally smile without it feeling artificial. There was a whole new light shining on John that Stephen never recognized before now. 

He was so...confident. In himself, in his magic, in his love life. And yet, he still partook in self-deprecation. He caught himself thinking about the same questions that, unbeknownst to him, John was thinking about _him_. Was the flirting just a tease? Or did he genuinely mean it? 

"When did you realize it?" he piped up all of a sudden, his smile disappearing. "That you liked men? ...You know, if you don't mind me asking." 

John raised his eyebrows at the question, but with the same wit and timing as ever, smirked at him and nodded his head. 

"Not a problem, squire," he assured. "It just came about when I was a young lad. Back in the 80s, went to a few concerts, played for a few venues, and it just...I was just drawn to whoever. Didn't matter who, they didn't stay for long. And I would say my father wasn't fond of that, but when was he fond of me at all? How about you?" 

Stephen had a feeling this would happen. There were a lot of things he didn't admit in the presence of his acquaintances. This was one of them. And though John would be accepting (if a bit invasive), it was still hard for him to try and say it out loud. 

Well, of all times, tonight might've been the best, because hey, they were drunk, they had drugs together, they might forget about it in the morning. 

"I had a boyfriend in college," he said, nearly stuttering with the word boyfriend. They had never used that word together, even in privacy, but it was true. "Same height, bright smile, beautiful dark brown eyes. He was analysing _The Joy Luck Club_ while I sought out my medical degree. We ate spam fried rice in his dorm late at night. I met his parents and everything. I had girlfriends and a few unrequited crushes in high-school, but this...was something." 

With stirred intrigue, John leaned in. "And then?" 

Stephen looked at him, then at the ground, and shrugged. "I became a doctor. I graduated. I never saw him again." 

The silence returned, forcing him to navigate his emotions by himself. A lot of shit happened in college...he never even got to say goodbye. Part of the journey, as he learned during his training at the Kamar-Taj, was accepting his regrets and rising above him. However, he couldn't help but wade in what could've been. 

John broke the silence (like always) with a snicker. "Well that's a downer." 

Raising his head, Stephen glared at him with zealous vexation. "Excuse me for not living in a romantic comedy!" He snapped, which segued into a bitter chuckle. He sprung from the ground and started reenacting a made up scenario. "Hey, maybe I'll bump into him tomorrow as some sort of meet cute outside of the bakery. He'll be a decently read, recently engaged author, and I'll be a ' _Master of the Mystic Arts'_ , and through some wacky shenanigans, he'll break up with his far better than me fiancé and marry me instead!" 

Unamused, John shook his head. "Had that all planned out, didn't you?" 

"And you can be my annoying comic relief with his own stupid subplot," Stephen kneeled back down and stuck a finger into his chest. "Meet up with another, quirkier guy and go on some quirky little date that happens to inconvenience my own." 

"And how do you know we're not the stupid subplot, huh?" he countered, tired of his melancholic ramblings. "Our friends are off with their team-bonding exercises, while we're getting drunk and high in the ditches of Manhattan. Never thought of that one, mate?" 

John awaited a response, but as Stephen remained quiet, the room fell into a bitter silence. One he didn't intend to create. He watched Stephen slowly sink back down to the ground, hands on his stomach, closing his eyes. Great, did he actually upset him _now_? When they were doing so good? 

Okay, perhaps Stephen was upset, but at least he lightened up for a few hours. That was an accomplishment, at least. 

"Look." 

When the word escaped his lips, John realized that the doctor's eyes had opened again, and they were staring up. He looked in their direction, but all he found was a wide ceiling with patterns so complex he couldn't comprehend them at first. 

"What?" 

"Look up." 

He looked again, trying to find something different, but his efforts were in vain. 

"At what?" 

"The sky." 

"...We're in your sentient abomination of a bloody house, mate," John pointed up. "That's a ceiling." 

In what was possibly the tipping point that Stephen was too drunk to function, the doctor sat up and pressed a tender hand to his chest, using his other one to motion wildly at the ceiling. His eyes weren't glowing, but there was some sort of spark in them that created that illusion. They were different-- full of joy. Full of freedom. 

"No, no, sometimes if you can focus..." Stephen explained. "You can see the sky. And all its beautiful stars." 

"Alright, you've had too much to drink," John got up to his knees and started to grab Stephen's arm, ready to drag him off to bed for the 2nd time this month. "How about we get you up to b--"

"Listen, John. Listen, and lie down." 

And John stopped, because he could tell that Stephen wasn't going anywhere, and he stared into his eyes again. Never has he seen him this content before, not even when he teased him endlessly, or when they saved the day together. 

Serenity clouded his vision. There was peacefulness strewn into his face, something John had become a stranger to as the days piled on. 

So, with only the slightest ounce of humiliation, he listened to the drunk doctor and lowered himself back to the ground. He stared up at the ceiling, trying to see what Stephen was seeing, until Stephen pointed up. 

"Look, don't just stare," his voice quivered, possibly out of drunken weariness. "Look at the space above us, threatening to open up and swallow us whole. Sometimes, when your mind is open enough, when you feel at peace with the world, even momentarily, you can see it." 

John turned his head. "See what?" 

Stephen was still gazing in awe at what was above him. "The Starlight Glimpse." 

Gazing back up at the ceiling, John expected to still see nothing remarkable, nothing out of the ordinary. Just a cluster of dizzying patterns that made his brain hurt. And yet, he saw...something. Something that resembled a constellation, even if he couldn't exactly see it. 

Huh. That was new. He'd never dealt with aliens face-to-face, or any cosmic entities really. But here he was, staring at invisible space, believing the words of an intoxicated wizard. Who knows, maybe it was the magic drugs, or maybe it was the wine, but he _saw_ it. 

And sure, perhaps it was some placebo effect, or Stephen just wanted to piss him off yet again, but John couldn't help but find himself getting lost. His soul, while not purged of sin (that was a feat nigh impossible, he presumed), was quiet. 

For once he finally settled, he saw stars. 

"It's a small pocket in the vastness of eternity where it feels like you can walk amongst the stars," Stephen explained with breathless wonder. "But you must be quiet, you must be at peace." 

His eyes shut and his body went still, almost like he was falling asleep. Actually no, _exactly_ like he was falling asleep. Still keeping his eyes on the ceiling, John asked, 

"You just want me to shut up, don't you?" 

To which Stephen responded with a sleepy, 

"Quiet...peace..." 

And then he was asleep. 

And John let him, because whether or not he was lying about the Starlight Glimpse, he (to his shock) believed him thoroughly. Just for the tiniest second, he _believed_ him. 

His head fell to the side and he faced Stephen, fully unconscious at this point. His hair was covering his face, but he could still tell he was more at peace right now than he'd ever been since they first met. He had an arm draped over his forehead, an inebriated tint still fresh on his face. 

For the first time, John thought, he didn't look like a wizard. He didn't even look like a doctor. He looked like a person. 

With a coy smile, he swiftly tucked Stephen's hair behind his ear. Knowing he wouldn't hear, he gave him one last sentence before drifting off to sleep as well. 

"Goodnight, love." 

* * *

" _Strange._ "

The next morning, as the sun aggressively forced its way into his eyes, Stephen was brought back to lucidity by an all-too familiar voice. 

_"_ Strange!" 

Clutching his pounding head, he rose from the floor shakily and turned to Wong, who was glaring at him from the doorway. 

"What?" 

Wong looked ready to lecture him about his irresponsibility right then and there, but with nothing but a miffed expression, he pulled John by his arm into view. 

"Is this your friend?" he asked, passive-aggressiveness seeping into his voice. "I found him sleeping in the bathroom." 

"Oh, pipe down, will ya?" John said, pulling away from him. He stumbled into the doorframe, but pretended that he didn't. "I'm not even sober yet." 

Disregarding the dizzy guest beside him, Wong took a quick glance at the plate on his desk. "Let me guess-- you ate the Yurisazo." 

"Strange, what's he on about?" John asked, pointing at him as if he weren't right there. 

"That was the-" Stephen gripped his forehead, noting that this was probably gonna continue throughout the day. How many bottles did they even have last night? "The snack. We found it, I was researching it, I forgot." 

"And now you're half-lucid on the ground when you have a meeting in a half-hour," Wong crossed his arms. 

Stephen's eyes widened and suddenly his hangover was the last thing he had on his mind. 

"Shit, I forgot," he shot up from the ground and immediately stumbled into his chair. Picking himself up, he tried to think about what he had to do so he didn't look like a mess at the Compound. "Okay, uhm, I'll just take a portal and shower over there-- switch that, switch that. Oh, by the way-- Wong, Constantine. Constantine, Wong." 

"Nice to meet you, squire." John offered his hand forward with a dazed smile. 

Wong took it without smiling back. "I'm a master, not a squire." 

Stephen grabbed John's trenchcoat off the ground and shoved it into his hands. "He'll just be on his way, _won't you?_ " 

"I will, I will," he patted him on the arm as he took the coat and shuffled it on. He staggered towards the door, head still buzzing, and flashed a grin as he made his way out. "We should do this again someday, love. I enjoyed it." 

The door opened, then closed right after he stepped out. Stephen didn't know if Wong noticed him staring at the door even after he had left, but even if he did, he was already making his way into the study before he could mention it. 

"Good to see you're making new friends, Strange," he called out as he grabbed the plate of Yurisazo. "But I would prefer it if you two hung out under normal circumstances." 

Stephen narrowed his eyes, but stayed quiet. He didn't want him to know that he just had the best night off in a long time. Because if he said that, he'd be saying that John Constantine made his life a little bit brighter. He'd be saying that, disregarding everything he's thought about him when they first met, he liked him. He was his friend. 

And anyone who was a friend of Stephen Strange was always destined for heartbreak. But still, it was nice to dwell in a fantasy where he and John could be alone. 

Wordlessly, he turned around and went upstairs to get ready to return to reality. 

**Author's Note:**

> a cookie to anyone who can guess who stephen's one night stand was ;) 
> 
> hint-- it's not a marvel character!


End file.
